So, you can see from all these stories, I take after my middle name: Scheherazade.
It may not have been a life or death matter for me to catch the stories, but sometimes it sure seemed that way.
The other day I came across another character I’m like. Winnie the Pooh. Remember when he ate all Rabbit’s honey and couldn’t fit through Rabbit’s doorway? He had Christopher Robin tell him stories until he got thin enough to get through it? To sustain him through tight times.
These last few months my family’s been through a tight time. My finding and telling our stories have helped tons.
Scheherazade, Winnie–these connections fit–but today Pop gave me another handle.
He says I’m the “geriot” of the household.
Pronounced gee-roh, Dearie, says Mimi.
A geriot is the carrier of the tales. In Africa the geriot gathers all the stories and remembers all the details, no matter how tiny. The geriot’s job? Pass it on.
I agree with Pop. I am sort of a geriot.
I’ve got tons more stories. I’m thinking that I’ll just keep on the lookout and grab them.
Remember that box Mimi and I found in the attic? There was this little book in there, too. I wrote it when I was in kindergarten, or maybe before. Lots of scribbles and every once in a while some strings of letters. But on the last page was this:
To be continued? Get it?
So that’s what I’m putting at the end of this set of stories:
To be continued.
PS When you go to my blog isabeltellsherstories.com make sure to begin at Chapter 1. It’s pretty easy to get there.